


blood is thicker than water

by johnnys



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, but taekwoon hates them all, everyone loves taekwoon, hakyeon is violent but peaceful(?), jaehwan complains a lot, jaehwan is baby fangs, so basically its a vixx vampire au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnys/pseuds/johnnys
Summary: Three vampires rent an apartment in downtown Seoul: Joseon-era prince Hakyeon, 80s heartthrob Taekwoon, and 21st century amateur singer Jaehwan.
Relationships: Han Sanghyuk | Hyuk/Lee Jaehwan | Ken, Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Kim Wonshik | Ravi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	1. The Vampires Next Door

Vampires live at number 606. 

It's not exactly a dangerous rumour about the place - more like an inside joke between the residents who live on the sixth floor. It's apartment number six on the sixth floor of the building, and three young men share the rent. They often stay inside all day, and only come out at night, under the cover of darkness and the light of the moon. The curtains are always drawn, even in broad daylight, and they are known to go on midnight excursions onto the streets. 

Of course, the neighbours are all deluded. They're easy to fool, though, with lilly-scented air freshener to mask the musky smell of alcohol mixed with blood. People like to make absurd, ridiculous jokes. But they make them relying on the fact that they are nothing more than jokes, and that they know what reality is. 

What humanity is.

To the naked eye, Lee Jaehwan looks like every other twenty-something surviving in Seoul - dragging his feet up the stairs to the sixth floor with a convenience store carrier bag grasped between his fingers, wearing pyjama shorts and an oversized purple sweatshirt and yellow crocs, pouting. But if you took a closer look, with a little knowledge on the subject, you would notice the red flecks in his eyes, and the way the colour is slowly draining from his skin.

It's midnight, just a few minutes into Friday, which means it's been almost a week since his thirst was quenched. Jaehwan is rugged, desperate, with nothing but the thought of crimson red blood dripping through the crevices in his mind. 

Jaehwan unlocks the front door to the apartment and slouches inside, bringing a cloud of dissatisfaction into the room.

"Where have you been?" asks the man who is currently practising martial arts in the middle of the lounge, sensing Jaehwan's presence without having to even glance up. 

Cha Hakyeon is the epitome of the word grace, moving with the delicacy of a feather yet also with the control of a sword. His skin is still golden and sunkissed despite living as a vampire since midway through the Joseon era, and he would have lovers falling at his feet with his angular eyes and rosy lips, if he bothered to step outside that is. Hakyeon doesn't understand the 21st century too well, and prefers the solitude of an empty house when the others go out. 

Jaehwan grunts. "Suppressing the urge to spontaneously attack anyone."

He dumps the carrier bag, which contains two tubs of mint-choc-chip ice cream, and his keys on the coffee table that Hakyeon has moved aside to create a larger space between the sofa and the wide-screen television. The movement causes the other, taller, man who is spread across the sofa to open one eye and push one headphone off his ear.

"Oh, Baby Fangs," he remarks. "You're back."

Jung Taekwoon is the yin to Hakyeon's yang - pale as a ghost and almost the textbook definition of a vampire. He's always ominously silent except for the many opportunities he finds to poke fun at the others in that soft yet sarcastic voice of his. Having barely evolved from when he was turned in the eighties, he still carries his trusty Walkman everywhere he goes, and only wears two colours: black and denim.

"Stop calling me that," Jaehwan whines, giving Taekwoon the middle finger when he thinks Hakyeon isn't looking. 

Taekwoon smirks and kicks out a leg at the carrier bag on the coffee table. His foot comes into contact with something cold and he shivers. "What's in the bag, Baby Fangs?" he asks.

"Ice cream," Jaehwan sighs, all melodramatic as he adds, "I'm miserable."

Hakyeon executes a kick that's only an inch or two from taking out the TV, and turns to Jaehwan with his arms crossed. "It's Friday," he says consolingly, "so just hang on until tonight, okay?"

Jaehwan's face scrunches up and he lets out the cry of a child having a temper tantrum. "How are you so calm about it?" he demands. "It's all I can think about…"

"You just have to compose yourself," is Hakyeon's advice. He sits on the big furry rug in the centre of the room now and crosses his legs. "It's not hard once you find what works. Woonie listens to his terrible excuse for music, and I meditate."

Taekwoon is outraged from the sofa. "Say that again, and I'll stake you," he warns. He's around eighty percent joking, give or take eighty percent.

Hakyeon's eyes are closed when he replies, "Do not joke lightly about slayers, Woonie."

Jaehwan huffs and throws himself onto the armchair, which is usually Hakyeon's therapizing chair on any other day of the week. "It's not fair!" he explodes. "I never asked to be a vampire."

Taekwoon rolls his eyes, as if to say,  _ here we go again… _

"And now my life is literally over," Jaehwan continues brashly. "I was on my way to becoming the greatest musical theatre singer in the whole of Korea, before some fucker attacked me behind that club in Hongdae."

"Yeah, yeah, we all know the story about the gay club, Jaehwan," Taekwoon mutters, but he doesn't call him  _ Baby Fangs _ this time because it's a serious topic, even though they've heard this a thousand times in the last two years.

"My life is  _ over _ ," Jaehwan repeats, staring up at the ceiling. "And now I live with two of the world's most boring vampires, and I can't date anyone without lying to them, and instead of clubbing on a Friday night I go to a fucking blood donation clinic! Who the fuck does that?"

"We do," Hakyeon says calmly, still half-concentrating on his meditation. "It was your idea in the first place, remember?"

Jaehwan sighs again. "That's only because I value consent," he snaps, but a lot of the bite is gone from his voice. "And I don't want to ruin anyone else's life."

Hakyeon stands then, done with his routine of dealing with blood cravings. He ruffles Jaehwan's hair with a sympathetic smile. "It'll get easier," he promises. "By Saturday, you'll be feeling a lot better about all of this."

Jaehwan just shrugs.

"Anyway," Hakyeon says, "I'm going to write some more of my novel and then I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late, either of you."

"Okay,  _ Dad _ ," Taekwoon quips, finding it funny when Hakyeon pretends to ignore him as he leaves the room.

Jaehwan buries his face in the plush velvet of the vintage armchair, desperately aware of his craving for blood. It has been almost exactly two years since he was turned but he still isn't used to the needs or the urges of vampires. It still catches him by surprise when his skin tingles and fangs appear at the onset of extreme emotions. But worst of all, in Jaehwan's eyes, is that he can't get used to the isolation. The solitude. Sure, his family weren't the most accepting of him before, but now he has nobody. And he's too afraid to seek comfort in dating because of what he might do if he fell in love.

All in all, Baby Fangs is a pretty accurate nickname.

"Hey, Baby Fangs," Taekwoon calls out from the sofa. For such a tall, beautiful man, his voice is far too sweet and gentle - especially when his disposition is the exact opposite. 

"Mhmpmh."

"Get a spoon and come here."

Jaehwan thinks about the melting mint-choc-chip ice cream in the convenience store carrier bag and cheers up, albeit only marginally. He fetches a spoon from the kitchen and returns to claim his share of the ice cream. Taekwoon shifts to make room on the couch and Jaehwan curls up beside him, nestling into Taekwoon's side. They open one of the ice cream tubs and Jaehwan scoffs most of it, only feeding Taekwoon the odd spoonful when he asks. 

"Why mint?" Taekwoon wrinkles his nose. Anybody who knows Taekwoon (not that many people do) would know that his favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. Of course.

"Apparently it's supposed to help blood cravings," Jaehwan murmurs around another spoonful of ice cream.

"Says who?" Taekwoon scoffs.

"Yahoo Answers."

Taekwoon frowns as he licks the last of the ice cream from his lips. "Who's Yahoo Answers?"

Jaehwan stifles a laugh and rolls his eyes. That's the other thing about living with older vampires: they really can't comprehend modern conveniences, like the internet or social media. Jaehwan's already given up trying to explain it all.

"He's a decent guy," he says, "But he's a bit useless when it comes to giving advice."

Taekwoon seems to accept that.

✢

In the morning (well, it's not morning, it's gone midday and the sun is fighting through the gaps in the dark curtains) Jaehwan wakes still curled up on the sofa. Taekwoon must have been kind enough to dump a blanket over him and put a pillow under his head, because Jaehwan doesn't remember it happening. 

By the time Taekwoon emerges from his room, Jaehwan has chewed his way through three and a half bowls of Crunchy Nut, and has the TV idly on in the corner while he scrolls through the depths of Tinder. Hakyeon is sat upright on the therapizing armchair, staring at the TV screen in disgust.

"Do you want lunch?" Jaehwan calls out. He doesn't really intend to make Taekwoon anything to eat, but it seemed like the right thing to ask anyway.

"Not if you're making it," Taekwoon answers with a straight face, shrugging his denim jacket over his shoulders on his way out the door. "I'll get something on the way to work."

"You're literally so mean to me," Jaehwan complains. Just before Taekwoon can leave the apartment though, he calls him back and shoves his phone in his face. "Wait, before you go, what do you think of this one?"

Taekwoon squints at the Tinder profile shining up at him on the phone screen. He's been a vampire for 35 years, but he hasn't exactly moved with the times. It was only in 2015 that he decided to get a mobile phone at all, and it's still the same little Nokia flip phone now. "No," he says, shaking his head, "not your type."

Jaehwan raises an eyebrow and scoffs. "Oh, really?" he asks, mildly put out by Taekwoon's reaction. "Well, what do you think my type is then, Master of Tinder?"

"You like a guy to be taller than you," Taekwoon tells him, in such a way that he's starting to sound like a relationship counsellor, "and this guy says he's 175cm."

"That's not  _ short _ ," Jaehwan argues.

"He's exaggerating by at least four centimetres."

Jaehwan narrows his eyes and stares at the screen again. "How can you possibly know that?" 

Taekwoon shrugs, grabs his keys and his wallet, and heads for the door. "All the short people do it," he answers. "You probably do it."

"I'm not even that short--"

"Also, his grammar is awful, he likes watching motorbike racing, and he probably hates musical theatre," Taekwoon interrupts, opening the front door just a crack. "And he's probably straight. So, like I said, not your type."

Jaehwan glowers at him from across the room, disappointed because Taekwoon is completely right. He begrudgingly swipes  _ left _ .

"See you later then," he mumbles. "Don't be late, 'cause I'm not having a great week."

Taekwoon gives a little salute and leaves for work, letting the door close quietly behind him.

"What is this rubbish?" Hakyeon blurts out in disbelief, wrinkling his nose at the historical k-drama playing on the television in the corner. 

Jaehwan glances over. "It's k-drama," he says, like it's obvious - which it isn't if you're from the actual period of time being portrayed on the screen. 

"It's so inaccurate!" Hakyeon exclaims. "Do they even know what things were like back then?" 

"No, they don't. That's why it's a drama, not a nature documentary."

"It's  _ awful _ ."

Jaehwan tries his best not to laugh, but at least Hakyeon is doing something to cheer him up, and distract him from that neverending hunger for blood. Despite his complaints, Hakyeon continues to avidly watch the drama, perched on the armchair in nothing but that red silk robe he always wears, which leaves much of his tanned legs exposed and little to Jaehwan's imagination.

(On a side note, Jaehwan is pretty sure he'd have a crush on Hakyeon if he wasn't so old and weird, and acted sort of like his dad.)

"Are you gonna put some clothes on?" Jaehwan asks casually, unconsciously swiping left on at least ten different people while he glances from Hakyeon's legs to the TV screen and back again.

"I'm not going anywhere until later, Hwannie," says Hakyeon absently. Almost all of his attention is now focused on the so-called 'rubbish' k-drama now.

"Suit yourself."

✢

Taekwoon wears shades like John Lennon. He's sure he catches a few weird looks on his way to work, but he doesn't care. John Lennon was an icon. (It's sad to say  _ was _ .)

The bar is easy to find from the street, opposite an old-school record store. It's dark and musky and intimate on the inside, but brightly lit on the outside in red and orange neon lights that glow at night. In the afternoon, it's moderately busy with a couple of businessmen getting drinks, and university students meeting up after class. Taekwoon likes the afternoon shifts. They're a lot more peaceful than the late night ones.

This particular Friday afternoon-into-evening is a quiet one, with only a dozen or so customers in the entire bar. Taekwoon, who works behind the bar, is left alone with his thoughts for most of the shift - which is, quite frankly, excruciating. All he can think about is blood, and the desperation which he usually has under control. He knows he's touchy and overly sensitive because his professionalism slips away before his hours are up.

"One Bloody Mary, please."

Taekwoon freezes. Every inch of his skin tingles and he feels red-hot adrenaline start to pump through his veins. He slowly turns around to see the man sitting at the bar, smiling at him expectantly.

That smile is  _ fake _ .

"What do you want?" Taekwoon mutters under his breath. "We've been over this. I told you not to come here anymore."

Lee Hongbin, with his chocolate-brown hair pushed back off his forehead and silver Rolex sparkling on his wrist, doesn't know the meaning of the word no. He's the kind of person who's never had to want for anything, and he's probably never experienced any kind of rejection before. Well-dressed in smart attire, charming and physically attractive, he's used to getting whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. 

"Can't I just come here to talk?" Hongbin purrs, resting his elbows on the countertop. "It's been so long since we caught up…"

Taekwoon scowls, but starts making the order all the same. The tomato juice in Hongbin's Bloody Mary has Taekwoon's head spinning. He glances up at the clock. His shift is nearly over.

"How have you been?" Hongbin continues, watching Taekwoon make his drink behind the bar. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Cut the bullshit," Taekwoon spits bitterly. He finishes the cocktail and slides it across the counter. "We both know why you're really here."

"Why must I have ulterior motives?" Hongbin asks. His eyes are wide and his expression is the very essence of innocence.

"Because you always do," Taekwoon cuts in before Hongbin can carry on sweet talking him to Hell. "Look, I don't know exactly what you and your rich pureblood friends are up to, but my answer is the same as last time."

Hongbin drops the act and his eyes turn dark. "There are many of us, Taekwoon," he says shortly, "You'd be surprised if you knew just how many purebloods there are in Seoul, let alone how many vampires."

Taekwoon sighs irritably. "Can we just skip the part where you try and persuade me to join your little cult?" he says. "Just cut to the part where you get angry and leave."

Hongbin scoffs, running his tongue over one of his fangs before setting his jaw. He stirs the straw slowly in his Bloody Mary, exercising every ounce of control he has left. "You'd do well with us, you know," he says. There's a hard edge to his voice now.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Taekwoon replies, and it's the same answer as it's always been. He wipes the surface of the counter next to Hongbin's drink, feigning absolute disinterest. "As much as attacking innocents sounds like a thrilling venture--"

"You're  _ weak _ , Taekwoon," Hongbin interrupts, grabbing Taekwoon's wrist across the counter. His fingers close around pale skin with a firm grip and he leans in, pulling Taekwoon closer to him. "I can smell it all over you. You're desperate to feed. You  _ need _ it."

"I don't  _ want _ to feed like you."

When Taekwoon says it, they're eye to eye, and his gaze is intense. But he pushes Hongbin away in disgust and walks away, through the bar and out the back. He takes out the trash and hopes Hongbin is still sitting there sipping at his Bloody Mary being the little pissface who sucks up to his father, like he always is. Taekwoon can't guarantee that if Hongbin comes after him, he won't lash out. 

Because Hongbin is right about one thing: Taekwoon is desperate. A week of waiting is all it takes to drive him almost to the edge - where he's like a loose canon, bloodshot eyes and chemicals rushing rampant through his brain, and he can break at any trigger. 

"I know you want it really, Taekwoon."

A trigger like that.

Hongbin is standing in the doorway, teasing him, taunting him, with nothing but a smirk to hide the way his eyes glower. Something stirs deep down in Taekwoon's chest and he brings a hand up to his neck with a delicate touch. He feels his skin prickle and recoil, and his fingers curl into a tight fist.

"Get out."

There's a tickle of laughter in Hongbin's throat and it's enough to make Taekwoon snap. He takes a fistful of Hongbin's creaseless shirt and pulls him up onto his tiptoes so that they're eye to eye once more.

"Stay away from me," Taekwoon growls. "If I see you here again, I'll stake you before you can beg for mercy." He's  _ this _ close to punching that stupid smirk off Hongbin's face. The blood rushes through his veins, and all he can see is red.

Hongbin leans in, close enough for Taekwoon to feel the heat of his breath on his face. "You… owe me," he emphasises slowly.

He pushes Taekwoon's buttons so easily, and he gets the reaction he's earned. Taekwoon swings back a punch and lands it - his knuckles against the skin of Hongbin's cheekbone. Hongbin reels at the impact, but his lips curl back to reveal a glowing white smile.

Taekwoon throws him to the floor and punches him again, overcome with anger. Hongbin puts up a good fight, and they both take a few more hits, joints scraping the concrete. It's only when they're bloody and bruised and Taekwoon loses his self control that he bares his fangs less than an inch away from Hongbin's neck.

"Go on," Hongbin taunts gruffly, out of breath, tilting his head to expose more of his neck like a friendly invitation. "Do it."

Taekwoon falls back in horror, breathing back sweet oxygen into his lungs as he stares at Hongbin's battered figure on the ground. A tinkling ringtone fills the silence and Taekwoon is snapped out of his stupour. He scrambles to his feet, suddenly very aware of the time, and makes a move to leave.

Hongbin looks up at him and sneers. "Call me," he whispers, just for the final blow.

"Fuck off," Taekwoon spits, and escapes the scene of the crime.

✢

When he arrives at the donation clinic not long after, he's late. 

"Where have you been?" Jaehwan whines, seeing Taekwoon's long figure approach from across the street. "We were supposed to meet twenty minutes ago."

"Sorry," Taekwoon says in a short burst of breath. Even under the yellow glow of the street lamps, dark bruises bloom over snowy skin, and there's blood drying a dark red at the corner of his mouth.

Hakyeon squints at him in concern. "Are you okay?" he asks, grabbing Taekwoon by the shoulder. For once, Hakyeon has changed out of that crimson silk robe, and has donned an ensemble of clothes to blend in with the 21st century. It's jarring to see him looking so modern in dress pants and a long coat.

"I'm fine," Taekwoon insists, brushing him off. He winces at the movement of the muscles in his face, touching a hand gingerly to the largest bruise forming just above his jaw.

"Is that blood on your jacket?" Jaehwan examines a stain near the collar of Taekwoon's denim jacket, before seeing the blood on his knuckles. "Woonie, your hands!"

"I got into a fight at the bar," Taekwoon mutters, throwing in an explanation before any questions start getting asked.

"I hope you finished them off," Hakyeon says stoutly, while Jaehwan brushes the pads of his thumbs over the blood on Taekwoon's knuckles. "I wouldn't engage in a fist fight, though," he adds. "Just run them through with a sword, I say."

Jaehwan rolls his eyes. "That can't be your solution to everything."

"I don't see why not."

"Shall we go inside?" Taekwoon suggests. He pushes past the other two and leads the way, ducking under the sign that reads: _Seoul Blood Donation_ _Clinic._

It's a regular Friday night thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is intended to feel like a 10 episode tv series, so hopefully the first episode: 'the vampires next door' achieved that! i live and die for vixx so i am over the moon to be posting this! leave a comment and tell me what you thought of the characters and the story set up so far ♡


	2. A Little Bit Like Dracula

Vampires typically try to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. It's part of the survival instinct they need to keep themselves alive and undetected.

Clearly, Jaehwan isn't a typical vampire.

From the moment Taekwoon steps through the front door when he gets home from work one evening, he is instantly suspicious. Jaehwan can be heard humming, no -  _ singing _ , from the kitchen and when he emerges, a plate of pop tarts is presented. Not only that, but Jaehwan is beaming so hard his smile is almost bursting with sunshine, which seriously unnerves Taekwoon upon his entrance into the apartment.

"Alright, which one was it?" he asks, frowning as he stares at the plate of pop tarts in Jaehwan's hands.

"Hm?"

"Which one of my vinyls did you step on this time, Baby Fangs?"

Jaehwan's eyes are wide with innocence, and he looks almost offended when he exclaims, "I haven't broken anything!"

"Why are you pretending to be happy then?" Taekwoon scoffs and waves his hands in the air as if to gesture to the pop tarts, as well as the situation as a whole. "What's all this?"

"Why do I have to be  _ pretending _ ?" The smile falls from Jaehwan's face and he purses his lips in disappointment. "Can't I just be happy, Taekwoon? Or do I need your permission for that?"

Taekwoon narrows his eyes. He sticks his head around the doorframe to call out to Hakyeon, who for once isn't where he usually is - in the therapizing armchair. "Hak, Jaehwan's acting weird!"

He gets a far-off response from somewhere in the apartment. "He's always been strange, Woonie."

"Yeah…" Taekwoon struggles, leaning back into the kitchen where Jaehwan is pouting at him again, "but not this strange. It's like he's got PMS."

"Is that some kind of plague?" 

Jaehwan slams the plate of pop tarts down on the kitchen counter. "Fine," he snaps, "you want to know why I'm actually in a good mood for once?" He fishes a flyer out of the pocket of his skinny jeans and unfolds it for Taekwoon to see. "...Look at this!"

Taekwoon squints at the lettering while Jaehwan waves it in his face. "It's…" 

"It's an audition!" Jaehwan says, and the silly grin is back on his face again. "For a musical."

"For a musical called  _ Dracula _ ?" Taekwoon catches the bold title and the shadowy image on the flyer of white fangs dripping with blood. "Hwan, seriously?" he demands, gaping at him in disbelief.

Jaehwan sighs at Taekwoon's reaction. "What? It's a good opportunity for me!" he insists.

Taekwoon crosses his arms and mutters under his breath in that soft voice of his, "Yeah, it's a great opportunity for you to expose yourself, and the rest of us."

"No one's going to find out I'm really a vampire," Jaehwan explains, painstakingly slow like he's trying to teach the alphabet to a toddler. "It's just a character. I'm  _ playing a part _ , Taekwoon."

"Except you're not."

"Well, it's not like I'm _actually_ Dracula, is it?"

"Except you kind of are."

"Oh, fuck off."

Hakyeon appears over Taekwoon's shoulder, tying the belt of his red silk robe. His dark hair is damp from the bath and his tan skin glows with the scent of lotus flowers. "What are you two fighting about now?" he asks, like water determined to extinguish a flame.

The only problem is that the flame is refusing to be extinguished.

Taekwoon grabs the audition flyer and shoves it against Hakyeon's chest, fixing Jaehwan with an angry glare. " _ Jaehwan _ thinks it's a good idea to act as a blood-thirsty vampire in a musical which thousands of people will see."

Jaehwan snatches the flyer back and smoothes out the creases, folding it carefully down the middle. " _ Taekwoon _ thinks it's a good idea to shit on my dreams and make me miserable for the rest of eternity."

"We'll see how miserable you are when you've got a stake in your chest," Taekwoon snaps.

"Ladies,  _ please _ ." 

Hakyeon rolls his eyes at them and holds out a hand at Jaehwan expectantly. The flyer is reluctantly passed over and Hakyeon glances over the red lettering and dark background. The audition is for a large Seoul-based theatre company for the musical 'Dracula'. It's obvious why Jaehwan is so invested, and why it caught his eye in the first place. Ever since he was turned, all Jaehwan has been able to think about is the hopeless pursuit of his musical theatre dreams, and the injustice of having them taken away from him. All he wants is a chance to prove himself on the stage, and this audition is so perfect it’s almost too good to be true.

It makes sense why he wants it so much. But as much as Hakyeon knows why Jaehwan is so determined, he has also spent centuries moving around Korea to outrun the suspicions of vampire slayers. He knows how easy it is to be found out.

"Hwannie," Hakyeon says carefully, moving between the two to lean against the kitchen counter, "are you sure about this?"

Jaehwan's anger instantly flares up again in defense. "Why are you taking his side?" he accuses the oldest vampire. He's one step away from going full fangs on them both - which would only support Taekwoon's argument that the audition is a bad idea.

"I'm not taking anyone's side," Hakyeon replies, his tone calm and crisp. "I would just have some concerns about your safety, if you were to go ahead with this. I'm sure Taekwoon feels the same way."

Taekwoon scoffs. "If  _ Hwannie _ wants to get himself killed, who am I to stand in his way?"

Hakyeon elbows him sharply in the ribs and he lets out a tiny yelp of protest. "Don't start pretending you don't care, Woonie," he chides.

"I don't."

"He doesn't."

"Whatever," Hakyeon sighs. The ' _ whatever _ ' combined with a strenuous eye-roll is probably the most modern thing he's done in the entire duration of the 21st century so far. "What I mean to say is that if you intend to audition, we should talk it through first. Weigh up the risks."

"Like how the entire production team will be vampire experts, since they're making a musical called  _ Dracula _ ," Taekwoon points out in that soft patronising tone of his. "They'll spot you a mile away." 

"You'll have to be careful," Hakyeon cuts in, before Jaehwan can bite back at the drawl in Taekwoon's voice. "If your anger flares up, it will be obvious what you are."

"It's not like you can control your mood swings yet, Baby Fangs."

"Woonie, shut it." Hakyeon casts a glare in Taekwoon's direction, wary of the fact that Jaehwan is like a ticking bomb, and one more snide remark from Mr 1980s will set off an explosive chain reaction. 

“No, maybe  _ Woonie  _ is right,” Jaehwan sneers, in a tone heavily laced with sarcasm. “I guess I can’t control myself.” To prove his point, he knees Taekwoon in the balls and storms out of the kitchen, slamming one of the cupboard doors along the way just to make everything a little more overdramatic.

Hakyeon sighs again. “Brilliant.”

“Don’t start acting like this is all my fault,” Taekwoon wheezes. He’s doubled over in discomfort, holding onto the kitchen counter for support. “He’s deluded.”

It’s quiet in the kitchen as Hakyeon moves to brew himself a cup of herbal tea. Ariana Grande can be heard faintly from somewhere in the apartment, leaking under Jaehwan’s barricaded bedroom door. (Of course, neither of the older vampires can recognise it as Ariana Grande, but it serves an act of defiance on Jaehwan's part.) The kettle boils and steam rises from the spout.

“You’re tearing down his dreams, Taekwoon," Hakyeon says quietly. The teaspoon  _ clinks _ against the sides of his mug as he stirs.

Taekwoon stares at him from across the room and shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be building them up in the first place, Hak," he replies, and there's something bitter about the way he says it. "He’s never going to be able to put himself in the spotlight like that. It’s too dangerous.”

Curls of steam rise from Hakyeon's herbal tea. He meets Taekwoon's gaze and nods, because there's nothing but truth in his words. It would be infinitely safer for Jaehwan to simply stay away from it all - the spotlight, the suspicion, the endless danger. 

But, as Hakyeon has come to understand, life is about a careful balance between comfort and risk, and there's nothing either of them can do to keep Jaehwan from grasping onto his dreams.

**  
  
**

✢

**  
  
**

The poster is still on the refrigerator when the day of the audition arrives, stuck to the door with a chunky ladybird magnet. 

Jaehwan grabs it on his way out of the apartment that morning, shoving it in the crossbody bag that holds his lunch (a BLT baguette courtesy of Hakyeon's culinary skills) and his sheet music for the two songs he's prepared (Valjean's Soliloquy from Les Miserables, and We Are The Champions from We Will Rock You). Almost as an afterthought, he opens the fridge and takes the last slice of Taekwoon's emergency cheesecake. It's not like Taekwoon will even enjoy it anyway when he's always in such a pissy mood all the time.

(Jaehwan also has Being Alive from the musical Company at the bottom of the bag, but that's just as backup. He isn't sure he can really bring himself to sing that one, considering the circumstances.)

"Oh, hey," mutters Taekwoon on his way out, when they reach the front door at the same time.

Jaehwan pushes past and ignores him, determined not to let someone like Taekwoon ruin what could be the greatest day of his life. He shoulders the blue crossbody bag, slides his feet into a pair of checkerboard Vans and takes off down the corridor.

"Good luck for today," Taekwoon calls softly after him.

Jaehwan throws a middle finger up at him and continues walking. After their argument the other day, he's not in the mood to deal with Taekwoon right now. In fact, he's still mad. It's pretty easy for Jaehwan to hold a grudge, and this one is still festering like an open wound.

Out on the streets of Seoul, Jaehwan wants to feel like Gene Kelly when he dances around with an umbrella as Don Lockwood in Singing In The Rain. Instead, Jaehwan feels like a nobody - pulling down his baseball cap to protect his face from the sun’s harsh rays as he trudges along in low spirits. Vampires are more easily affected by sunlight than humans, and Jaehwan doesn’t want to turn up to the audition with an angry red sunburn all over his face. It sucks, because he still feels like he’s hiding, and that the rest of the world has no idea who he is. He wants to be on the stage, in the spotlight, and here he is squeezing past businessmen on the sidewalk, pretending not to be the bloodthirsty killer that he knows he is.

The audition takes place at The Parallel Theatre, which is a stately building with modern architecture and an impressive repertoire judging by the glossy posters advertising current shows outside the front doors. Jaehwan stands on the steps, his heart in his throat.

He hasn't been this nervous since the night he was turned.

"You can do this," Jaehwan whispers to himself, clenching his fists in a feeble effort to reduce the way his hands shake. "Shit," he breathes after a moment, in half a mind to turn back and forget about the whole endeavour. It feels like the blood is running cold through his veins.

Sure, he would have to put up with Taekwoon's smug know-it-all expression for the rest of eternity, but Jaehwan isn't sure he'll even muster up the courage to take that first step through the theatre door. What if Taekwoon is right? What if something bad happens, or he loses his temper and the fangs come out, or someone on the production team figures out what he really is? But more important than all of that, what if they hate his voice?

What if after everything... he  _ fails _ ?

"You okay?"

Jaehwan jumps at the sound of a voice over his shoulder. He should've sensed someone getting so close, but when he turns he realises that the owner of the voice is standing several paces away from him on the theatre steps with a large cardboard box in his arms. The guy is overworked and rushed off his feet, but there's a friendly sort of inquisitive smile on his lips that is a welcome sight to Jaehwan.

"Uh…" Jaehwan clears his throat and shifts from one foot to another. "Yeah… I'm just…"

Cardboard Box Guy takes a step towards him and adjusts his grip on the box he's carrying. He's ordinary-looking in plaid flannel and light-wash denim, with once-permed unruly hair in a muted, mousey brown. His mouth has a way of curling up at the corners when he smiles, kind of like a puppy, and Jaehwan is easily distracted from his pre-audition nerves.

"Are you here for the  _ Dracula _ audition, by any chance?" Cardboard Box Guy asks. He's probably slightly younger than Jaehwan, although age is complicated when you're a vampire and time works slower than usual.

Jaehwan nods hurriedly, words failing him in the moment. If this guy would just do him a favour and shove him through the theatre doors, maybe he would get over himself and go for it.

“Ah… well, I can show you the way in,” Cardboard Box Guy offers, and the friendly puppy smile is back. He takes the next few steps up towards the entrance until he’s standing on the same step as Jaehwan, and that’s when Jaehwan realises just how tall this guy is. “We should probably hurry up, though.”

“Am I late?” Jaehwan gulps, desperately searching through his pockets for his phone, or a watch, or any sort of time-telling device. He’s certain he made sure to arrive at least a little bit early, but he’s always been known for leaving things until the very last minute.

Cardboard Box Guy tries and fails to hide a laugh, and shakes his head. “No, you’re on time, I think,” he tells him. “It’s the director who’s running late. She forgot an entire box of scripts for the workshop later, so… here I am, I guess.” He tilts his head to gesture to the overwhelmingly large box in his arms.

Jaehwan stands on his tiptoes to get a peek inside the box. It’s hard to see, but through the open flaps at the top he catches a glimpse of the Dracula scripts and music scores. It sends a thrill of excitement through him, which is just enough to convince him that this is a good idea after all, and that he really should follow Cardboard Box Guy into the theatre.

“I’m not an intern, or anything like that, by the way,” Cardboard Box Guy adds quickly. “We’re actually supposed to have an intern to do all of this, but he didn’t show. So apparently everything is my job now.”

He starts walking towards the theatre entrance and Jaehwan grabs the door for him, holding it open so he can get inside with the enormous box of scripts. Despite the interior being fancy, Jaehwan’s too nervous to get a good look at it all. (He’s also got a thought circulating through the back of his head that Cardboard Box Guy is actually pretty good-looking. It’s just a thought, though.)

“What  _ is  _ your job then?” Jaehwan blurts. Mr Not-An-Intern stops in front of him at the sudden question, and Jaehwan walks straight into the broad expanse of his back. The bridge of his nose tingles at the impact even after he steps backwards again.

“Sorry,” Mr Not-An-Intern says, with the sound of guilt mixed with amusement creeping into his voice. He glances over his shoulder at Jaehwan, who is still rubbing the same spot on his nose. “Um, actually I’m a sound techie,” he tells him. “I do all the mic levels for shows, so your radio mic basically belongs to me. Don’t break it.” He grins again and continues walking.

The way he says it is like Jaehwan's already scored the part. It sparks both confidence and fear, but all Jaehwan can do is follow him further into the building, wanting it more than ever. There’s a whirling picture going through his mind - nothing more than a daydream - of the entire rehearsal process for the show, and then standing under the lights to the sound of a standing ovation. It would be incredible, glorious, exhilarating…

...not at all like how it feels to stand in front of a very serious-looking panel, waiting for his death to just take him already.

The audition process is terrifying.

Jaehwan swallows his anxiety and bows, almost to ninety degrees. His heart is beating so fast he wonders if the panel can hear it too. “Hello, my name is Lee Jaehwan and I am auditioning for the part of Dracula,” he says, in his best attempt at professionalism.

"Alright, Lee Jaehwan," says the woman in the middle of the panel, "when you're ready." She's the director, a petite yet fierce-looking lady with sleek black hair and a steady gaze. Kim Taeyeon. She's been in the theatre industry for over a decade, and has directed a wealth of successful musicals over the past few years. (Jaehwan has done his research.)

The accompanist has his sheet music on the piano - Les Mis and We Will Rock You. Jaehwan powers through the misery of Valjean's Soliloquy to the silence of the panel, and then moves onto We Are The Champions before they can tell him to leave. Something doesn't feel right though, because members of the panel are murmuring amongst themselves - words that Jaehwan can't make out when he's halfway through the Korean musical rendition of the most perfect Queen anthem. 

Director Kim clears her throat and the pianist abruptly stops playing. "Do you have anything else prepared, Lee Jaehwan?" 

Jaehwan wishes the stage would just swallow him up. Did they hate the last two songs? Was the second one so bad they wouldn't let him get to the end? He stares out at the rows and rows of empty theatre seats, panicking. Just when he starts to think he might make a run for it, his eyes settle on Cardboard Box Guy in the fourth row back. He realises he still doesn't know the guy's name, but the sound techie gives him a subtle thumbs up with both hands, mouth curling into that reassuring smile.

"Lee Jaehwan?"

"Yeah," Jaehwan says sharply, looking back at the director who is still waiting for a response. "Sorry," he adds in a mumble. He hurries into the wings to find his bag and rifle through it for his backup music, pulling out the crumpled sheet music for Being Alive. Rushing back onto stage, he passes the music over to the pianist, who gets ready to begin.

Stop. Focus. Breathe. 

Everything is hanging on this one moment, and Jaehwan really can't afford to fuck it up. 

But when the piano starts to play, all the finer details fade into the background and he finds himself falling into the character, and into the song. The lyrics take over, and Jaehwan isn’t Lee Jaehwan anymore but Robert - a man who feels alone, who hurts alone. 

**  
  
**

_ Someone to hold you too close, _

_ Someone to hurt you too deep, _

_ Someone to sit in your chair, _

_ To ruin your sleep. _

_ Someone to need you too much, _

_ Someone to know you too well, _

_ Someone to pull you up short _

_ And put you through hell. _

_ Someone you have to let in, _

_ Someone whose feelings you spare, _

_ Someone who, like it or not, _

_ Will want you to share _

_ A little, a lot. _

**  
  
  
**

The words sting on his tongue and the breath burns in his throat, and the emotions embedded in the lyrics are too raw, too real. It means a lot to him, this song. It’s the comfort he’s lost and the loneliness he’s gained, and the ache in his chest when he thinks about his family, or his ex-boyfriend, or having someone to call when he’s excited or upset, someone to hold him as he falls asleep, to hold his hand and squeeze it in reassurance. 

**  
  
**

_ Someone to crowd you with love, _

_ Someone to force you to care, _

_ Someone to make you come through, _

_ Who'll always be there, _

_ As frightened as you _

_ Of being alive, _

_ Being alive, _

_ Being alive, _

_ Being alive. _

_ Somebody, hold me too close, _

_ Somebody, hurt me too deep, _

_ Somebody, sit in my chair _

_ And ruin my sleep _

_ And make me aware _

_ Of being alive, _

_ Being alive. _

_ Somebody, need me too much, _

_ Somebody, know me too well, _

_ Somebody, pull me up short _

_ And put me through hell _

_ And give me support _

_ For being alive, _

_ Make me alive. _

**  
  
  
**

His voice throbs on the crescendo, holding in the emotion in the way his tone wavers. He thinks of all the happy times framed in golden light in his memories: of family dinners and first dates, and trips to the beach in the summer, and sleeping over at his ex-boyfriend’s place and watching the sunset from the rooftop together, and all of the things he’ll never be able to do again because now he’s alone. He thinks about his funeral and the way his mother cried, and the pale lilies they placed on his grave. 

**  
  
  
  
**

_ Make me confused, _

_ Mock me with praise, _

_ Let me be used, _

_ Vary my days. _

_ But alone is alone, not alive. _

_ Somebody, crowd me with love, _

_ Somebody, force me to care, _

_ Somebody, make me come through, _

_ I'll always be there, _

_ As frightened as you, _

_ To help us survive _

_ Being alive, _

_ Being alive, _

_ Being alive! _

**  
  
**

When the song ends, Jaehwan is centre stage on his knees staring up at the theatre ceiling like it holds any of the answers he’s desperate for. It’s not even about the audition anymore. None of that matters when eternity waits for him and when he gets there he’ll be alone. It’s the loneliness he can’t stand, and it’s like a never ending cycle he can’t escape. 

To his surprise, though, someone begins to clap.

Jaehwan glances up and stands quickly, touching a hand to his cheek to wipe away tears he wasn’t even aware of. There’s only one person standing in the centre of the panel, alone in her applause. And Jaehwan can’t quite believe it, but it’s the musical director Kim Taeyeon.

“That,” she says, with the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, “is exactly what I’m looking for.”

Something shifts, and Jaehwan can’t hide the smile on his face that matches hers.

****  
  


✢

Hakyeon is making tteokbokki when Jaehwan gets back. Even Taekwoon is at home since he took an earlier shift at the bar than usual, and their quiet conversation echoes from the kitchen into the empty apartment. A silence falls when Jaehwan appears in the doorway.

Taekwoon coughs.

“Oh, hey, Hwannie,” says Hakyeon lightly as he turns around from where he’s stood at the stove. He’s in his red silk robe again as usual, and the fabric wrinkles when he folds his arms across his chest. “Are you hungry?”

Jaehwan drops his bag and nods, taking a seat at the breakfast bar next to Taekwoon. “You made my favourite,” he remarks. He breathes in the smell of his favourite dish, knowing that Hakyeon will make it exactly the way he likes it. 

Hakyeon smiles. “Today was a big day,” he says, by way of explanation. “I suspected you’d be craving something special.”

He’s still treading delicately around the subject of the most recent tension in the apartment, but Taekwoon approaches it without holding back. 

“How was the audition?” he asks bluntly.

Jaehwan momentarily wonders if he should’ve left a bigger gap between him and his pale housemate. “It was… good,” he says eventually. It’s like his entire face brightens at the thought of it, and the others can tell. 

“Just good?” Hakyeon turns off the stove and places the pan of tteokbokki on the kitchen counter in front of them.

“Well, better than good,” Jaehwan confesses. 

Taekwoon raises an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

And just like that, the tension breaks and Jaehwan can’t help but spill every single detail of his entire day to them both. He doesn’t even leave out the bit about Cardboard Box Guy or the feeling in his chest when Director Kim applauded him at the end. “She really gave me a standing ovation,” he gushes in disbelief. “Kim freaking Taeyeon gave me a standing ovation. You know what she said?” He doesn’t even wait for them to reply before telling them. “She said ‘that’s exactly what I’m looking for’. Shit, I can’t even believe it really happened.”

“So… do you think you’ve got a chance?” Hakyeon asks carefully. 

Jaehwan bites his lip. “I think so,” he answers. “That doesn’t usually happen in an audition, so it’s a pretty good sign she liked me.”

“Obviously she did,” Taekwoon points out. “No one has a better voice than you.”

Jaehwan feels strangely touched by that remark. “Why, thank you, Woonie,” he says, taken aback. The  _ Woonie  _ isn’t even laced with sarcasm this time. 

“It’s true,” Hakyeon agrees.

“But what I’m really interested in,” Taekwoon adds, turning the conversation in a different direction, “is who the hell this techie guy is. Was he hot?”

Flustered, Jaehwan struggles to answer that question. A faint blush scatters itself across his cheeks. “I… well, I mean…”

“Out of ten,” Taekwoon prompts.

“Well, I don’t know, by your standards,” Jaehwan blurts, looking vaguely embarrassed.

“What do you mean, ‘ _ by my standards _ ’?”

“He’s saying you’re picky, Woon.”

“I am  _ not--” _

Jaehwan sighs. “He was cute, okay?” he interrupts gruffly. “He was tall, and attractive, and he literally works in a theatre.”

A slow smirk works its way onto Taekwoon’s lips. “Perfect,” he says. “So he’s exactly your type.”

Jaehwan huffs and shoves enough tteokbokki in his mouth to guarantee that he won’t have to make any further comments on the matter.

“I don’t see why you’re saying it like that,” Hakyeon says to Taekwoon in confusion.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s a bad thing.”

Taekwoon starts to laugh then. “Oh, but it is a bad thing, Hak,” he tells him. “It’s a terrible thing. Our little Jaehwannie is completely doomed.”

And it’s true. He is.

Completely and utterly _doomed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you have no idea how many times i listened to 'being alive' to finish this episode. agh such a good song but now it's majorly overplayed. anyway, stay safe from corona and i'll try and finish this before September :)


	3. I Can See Right Through You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been like a literal year, but here you go. seven more episodes on their way.

Vampires usually move with the times, keep up with what’s in and what’s not. It’s how they stay alive (well, un-dead, technically) and avoid dangerous speculations from well-read historians and the average human being on the street. Humans seem to be inherently suspicious, and it’s all too easy for them to pry into the lives of those they might see as a threat.

Hakyeon, for the most part, has done his best to keep up with the changes in modern fashion, etiquette, and social behaviour. The only thing that still amazes him is the leaps and bounds Korea has made in technology since the Joseon era when he was turned. 

“Did you know,” he says one morning, wandering into the kitchen with his laptop in his hands, “that people write stories on The Internet?” (It’s not exactly morning, more like lunch time verging on afternoon, but all three vampires have a rather odd concept of what daytime means, and tend to sleep in late every single day of the week.)

Jaehwan hardly bats an eye. He’s perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, drowning in one of Taekwoon’s enormous sweatshirts as he refreshes his emails. “Old news, Hak. People have been doing that since before MySpace was invented.”

Hakyeon frowns. “Your space?”

It’s hard to fight the burst of laughter that tickles the back of his throat, but Jaehwan does his best. He glances over at the Joseon prince, who is now leaning on the countertop in front of him. “Don’t worry about it,” Jaehwan says with a wave of his hand. “What’s this about online stories, though?”

The look of excitement is back on Hakyeon’s face, and he forgets about the fact that his robe is slipping off his golden shoulders. “People write stories set during the  _ Joseon dynasty _ ,” he emphasises, as if it’s a piece of news Jaehwan has never heard before. 

“Oh, like yours,” Jaehwan says, off-hand, too absorbed in his phone to concentrate properly. He’s been refreshing his emails since he woke up, anxious for a reply about his audition. The director Kim Taeyeon made it clear she liked his performance, but Jaehwan still isn’t certain of anything at this point.

“Yes, like mine!” Hakyeon grins. “And it made me begin to think… perhaps I should put my novel on the internet for people to read too.” 

Hakyeon’s had a laptop since 2012, but he hasn’t bothered to explore the wonderous world of The Internet quite yet. Instead, he uses it as a more convenient way of writing his historical novel, more convenient than parchment that is. The novel is apparently so mysterious that no one else in the apartment has managed to catch a glimpse of the characters or the plot. Taekwoon has said on multiple occasions that he wouldn’t read the novel even if you paid him, and Jaehwan is always far too busy fantasising about having a boyfriend again or learning the lyrics to Ariana Grande songs to care. So neither of them have the faintest idea what Hakyeon’s story is about, or  _ who  _ it’s about. Hakyeon sort of likes it that way. It leaves this intriguing aura about him and his work.

“Mhm, good idea.” Jaehwan squints at his phone screen and sighs.

He’s desperate for an answer, for the theatre company to just  _ tell him _ if he made it or not. Also, it doesn’t exactly help that he forgot to get the Cardboard-Box/I’m-Not-An-Intern guy’s number when he was last at the theatre. Maybe now they’ll never meet again, and Jaehwan will have lost another reasonably attractive guy to the power of his own forgetfulness. (Not that he would have any chance with the guy anyway, being a fanged, blood-thirsty monster. It’s such a depressing thought.) 

Hakyeon stares at him expectantly, leaning in to catch Jaehwan’s attention. “So, if you would be so kind,” he says, “I need you to help me.”

“Help you with what?” Taekwoon strolls into the kitchen dressed entirely in denim, making a beeline for the refrigerator. 

“He wants to post his fanfic online,” Jaehwan says without shifting his gaze from his unchanging phone screen.

Taekwoon takes a sniff of the milk carton and wrinkles his nose. “I thought it was, and I quote, a ‘historical novel’.” He decides against using the milk in his coffee, but still puts it back in the door of the refrigerator. 

“It is!” says Hakyeon, looking towards the tallest housemate imploringly. Taekwoon boils the kettle, struggling to avoid Hakyeon’s pleading eyes, and peers back inside the refrigerator again.

“Where’s my emergency cheesecake?” he asks in a soft yet angry mutter.

“I ate it,” Jaehwan tells him proudly, swinging his legs like a child from the height of the bar stool he’s perched on. “It’s been gone for ages, and you’ve only just noticed.”

Taekwoon frowns, clearly disappointed by the lack of cheesecake in his life currently.

“ _ Woonie _ ...”

“No,” says Taekwoon firmly, turning in Hakyeon’s direction. “I refuse. I won’t have anything to do with your weird book or the world wide web, and that’s final.” He stares at the tan skin on Hakyeon’s chest and shoulders for a second, and then pulls the robe closed for him, tying it tightly around his waist. 

Hakyeon narrows his eyes at the tallest vampire, and then turns to Jaehwan instead.

"Don't look at me like that, Hak," Jaehwan says, eyes still fixed on his phone.

Taekwoon snorts and takes a sip of his coffee, gulping it down black. It wasn’t worth risking it for the milk with the suspicious sort of aroma about it. 

“Please?” Hakyeon says.

“Hang on,” Taekwoon interrupts, noticing the sweatshirt Jaehwan is wearing. “Is that mine?”

“Oh, this?” Jaehwan picks at the fabric, batting his lashes in Taekwoon’s direction just to piss him off. “I’m surprised you even own it. I didn’t think orange was your colour.”

“ _ Excuse _ me—”

“I'm just saying,” Jaehwan continues smugly, “I didn't think you'd be able to pull it off.”

Taekwoon grits his teeth and shoots Hakyeon a sideways glance. “Please let me hit him.”

“Aren't you supposed to be going somewhere?” Hakyeon points out, most of his attention still focused on Jaehwan. He figures that if Taekwoon leaves, maybe he'll have a shot at persuading the youngest vampire to help him.

A burst of laughter escapes Jaehwan's lips, as hard as he tries to stifle it. 

Taekwoon just rolls his eyes and shrugs, and gathers his things in preparation to leave. “You'd better wash that before you give it back,  _ Baby Fangs _ ,” he warns, directing a death-glare towards Jaehwan on his way out.

“Who says I'm giving it back?” Jaehwan calls after him. A smug smile touches his lips at the sound of the front door slamming. It might not seem like it on the surface, but Jaehwan is certain that Taekwoon is secretly as big a drama queen as he is. He just likes to hide it.

When he turns back to his phone, Hakyeon is there with his laptop open, eyes wide and a hopeful smile on his face. Jaehwan sighs, and begrudgingly relents. With Hakyeon's personality, he isn't likely to give up any time soon — which means he really isn't likely to leave Jaehwan alone. So, Jaehwan figures, it's better to get the whole thing over with sooner rather than later. That way, he can go back to waiting for the phone call or email that will change his life.

“Okay, fine,” he says, ushering the eldest vampire over. “I'll find you somewhere to post your goddamn story.”

Hakyeon sits on the barstool next to Jaehwan and watches eagerly as he opens a web browser. “Where will that be?”

“Hm?”

“Will we have to go there?”

Jaehwan frowns. “What?” he says. “No, it'll be like a website.”

Hakyeon nods, but it's clear he still doesn't fully understand exactly how the internet actually works. Jaehwan just rolls his eyes and types a few things into the search bar. Eventually, after a few clicks, he finds what he deems to be a good enough site — since he knows it's pretty popular with amateur authors.

“Okay,” he says, “I've found you a site you can use to post your story.”

“Mm?”

Jaehwan clicks on the webpage and quickly starts making an account for Hakyeon with his spare email address. “It's called Writebad,” he says, deep in thought as he tries to come up with a username.

“Write  _ bad? _ But my writing is good,” Hakyeon objects.

“That's just the name of the website," Jaehwan says. “What do you wanna be called?”

Hakyeon stares at him. “Cha Hakyeon.”

Jaehwan lets out a long sigh. “No, as your  _ username— _ nevermind, I'll come up with something.” He casts his gaze across the kitchen, and soon enough his eyes light up with an idea.

Hakyeon narrows his eyes at the screen. “ _ Tteokbokki Prince _ ?” he reads. “But tteokbokki is your favourite.”

“You're the best at making it,” Jaehwan reasons. It seemed like a good opportunity to persuade Hakyeon to make his favourite dish for dinner again, but the name is also pretty catchy. “Anyway, the password is  _ vampire _ , so it should be easy to remember 'cause that's what you are.”

“ _ Vampire _ … okay,” says Hakyeon in full concentration mode, scanning his eyes across the screen as Jaehwan passes the laptop over. “What do I do now?”

Jaehwan glances back at his phone. “You've just gotta post the first chapter, I guess,” he says. 

He spends the next ten minutes guiding Hakyeon through the process of copy-and-paste, so that he can upload the first chapter onto Writebad. It's a struggle, but they get there in the end. Jaehwan doesn't get to read much of the story, not that he's particularly interested at all, but he does notice that the characters have rather suspicious names.

“Hang on, Hak,” he says, scrambling to get another look at the screen. “What did I just read—?”

Hakyeon turns the screen away and rapidly searches for a button or something to post the chapter. “Do I press this?” he says, clearing his throat while trying to swiftly change the subject.

Jaehwan wrestles him for the laptop and catches a glimpse of part of the story text. “ _ Jihwan let out a moan into the night air as Taekwon ran a hand up his— _ ”

A message pops up on Hakyeon’s screen and he breathes a sigh of relief.

_ Your chapter has been published! _

“Ran a hand up his  _ what now? _ ” Jaehwan demands. He cranes his neck to get another look but Hakyeon has already snapped the laptop shut. “Hak, you never said you wrote  _ sex scenes _ !” 

Hakyeon rolls his eyes at the scandalised look on Jaehwan’s face. “It’s an art form, Hwannie,” he says, patting Jaehwan’s cheek gently. “I’m certain you’ll come to a full understanding one day.”

“But—”

“I’m going to run a bath,” Hakyeon says. He tucks the laptop under one arm and leaves the room, his robe slipping off one shoulder again.

Jaehwan can’t do anything else but gape.

  
  


*

  
  


The morning shift at the bar is always slow. That’s sometimes the reason Taekwoon likes to take it — so he can stick his Walkman on and people-watch through the big front windows. 

By the time he’s done for the day, it’s around the right time for a late lunch, and the streets are bustling with people. One of those people is the guy who works in the vintage record store across the road, who pops out for twenty minutes before Taekwoon finishes to grab what looks like supermarket kimbap and a can of cherry Cola. It’s not unusual behaviour — Taekwoon’s had an eye on this guy for weeks. This is only because he’s a regular person to watch, since he works across the road, and he’s more interesting than any of the random businessmen or grandmas that pass by the windows of the bar. (It’s not because Taekwoon is  _ interested _ , or anything like that.)

So, it’s not a big deal that Taekwoon knows what time the record store man breaks for lunch, or what he tends to eat, or that he always buys an ice lolly on a Friday. It’s also not  _ weird _ for him to know that the record store man goes clubbing on a Wednesday, and starts work  _ after  _ karaoke with friends on a Thursday evening most weeks. It’s just like… playing I Spy, or another similar game to pass the time.

“I’m clocking out,” Taekwoon says in that soft voice of his at the end of his shift. He grabs his bag from the back room and blindly waves a hand to his manager on the way out.

The sun is bright between the clouds, and it seems angled specifically in Taekwoon’s direction as he steps out onto the street. He grumbles and pulls a black fedora more firmly over his ears. Letting Jaehwan give him a haircut last month was definitely an error in judgement, even though the youngest vampire had been complaining about Taekwoon’s overgrown hair for what felt like an  _ eon _ by then. Sure, he may be a little trendier, but Jaehwan was and is by no means a hairdresser, and now Taekwoon’s hair is too short. 

His eyes flit upwards in annoyance at the way the sun makes the skin on the back of his neck tingle. Taekwoon has been a vampire for nearly half a lifetime by now, but the fact that it makes him overly sensitive to sunlight still  _ sucks _ . He darts between people to slip into the shade of the buildings across the road, just as the clouds part and the sun burns down with full force.

“ _ Great _ ,” Taekwoon mutters under his breath. He takes out a pair of shades for good measure and shuffles through the doorway of the vintage record store he’s been eyeing up for so long. Since he isn’t wearing anything with a hood, it seems as good a time as any to avoid getting sunburnt  _ and _ check out what shit music the store classes as ‘vintage’. It’ll be like killing two slayers with one stake, or however the phrase goes.

Judging from the outside, Taekwoon expects the record store to be dimly lit, cheap and tacky. But when he slips through the doorway and the little shop bell rings, he’s surprised to find it quite the opposite — spacious and roomy, with plenty of light streaming through the front windows, and plenty of greenery around the entire store. Taekwoon takes a piece of ivy between his fingers and sighs knowingly when it’s plastic to the touch. Many of the plants  _ are _ real, though, and it’s starting to feel more like a florist than a record store as Taekwoon ghosts between the aisles. 

“Hey, can I help you?”

Taekwoon nearly jumps out of his skin. The voice is gravelly and almost rough, but it’s owner is giving him that customer-friendly smile while casually leaning against the Guns N Roses vinyl selection. 

“No…?” Taekwoon utters, and he’s probably giving the guy his weirded-out-judgemental-eyes without realising. 

Literally the only single thought that comes to mind when Taekwoon looks at the record store man he’s been observing for weeks… is that he’s wearing far too many colours. Taekwoon’s wardrobe has a simple colour palette, meaning he only really wears one colour and that is  _ denim _ . (Technically, you could argue he also wears black and white, but he dated an artist in ‘89 who told him very seriously that black and white aren’t colours — they are  _ shades. _ And the random orange sweatshirt Jaehwan stole from him doesn’t really count either.) This guy wears so many colours it’s almost blinding: bright yellows and purples on the t-shirt, a matching purple hat, blue jeans decorated with multi-coloured fabric paint, and a lime-green bomber jacket to top it all off. There is a name badge camouflaged between all the other enamel pins on his jacket, and upon closer inspection the badge reads:

_ WONSHIK. _

“Okay,” the guy says with a laugh. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

Taekwoon snorts. “Sure,” he says. He doesn’t have any confidence that this guy would be able to pick out anything decent from the music selection. Wonshik the Eye Sore probably doesn’t even  _ know  _ any good artists to begin with.

Wonshik doesn’t seem fazed by Taekwoon’s dismissive tone. He just smiles, partly in amusement, and hovers around in the next aisle in case his customer happens to change his mind. Taekwoon rolls his eyes briefly, batting those long dark lashes of his, and continues browsing the vinyl selection. Ironically, the song that plays over the store’s sound system is  _ Hungry Like the Wolf _ by Duran Duran. It’s not a bad choice. Taekwoon has been a fan of the band since he was a teenager, but  _ Hungry Like the Wolf _ is kind of mainstream for his taste. It doesn’t make the store seem any more authentic or anything.

“So, I’m guessing you’re an eighties guy then?” 

Taekwoon sighs. He flicks through Duran Duran records and says, “Obviously.”

It’s funny though, because Wonshik must assume he’s just an eighties music fan. It fills Taekwoon with this sort of mischievous delight that he doesn’t know the truth. Taekwoon’s much more of an ‘eighties guy’ than Wonshik could ever imagine.

“I prefer a bit of Guns N Roses,” Wonshik says conversationally. “I’m not a huge expert on eighties music, though. Nineties rap is more my thing, I guess. And, like, Korean hip-hop artists…”

His voice trails off into nothing more than a stunned whisper. Taekwoon’s hyper-sensitive vampire ears prick at the rapidly increasing rate of Wonshik’s breathing. He frowns and looks up. On the wall behind the eighties section is a panelled mirror that reflects the light from the store’s front windows, as well as Wonshik’s narrowed eyes and gaping mouth.

What it doesn’t reflect… is Taekwoon.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” he mutters in exasperation. “I hate it when this happens.”

That’s another brilliant inconvenience vampires have to consider. In general, they can’t be seen in mirrors unless they want to — which means Taekwoon has to concentrate when he wants to check his own reflection. For some reason, he’s managed to let his guard down alone in the record store with Wonshik, and now they’re both in a little bit of a predicament.

“You’re…” Wonshik is clearly doing his best to reason out a rational explanation for the fact that Taekwoon’s reflection is fucking non-existent. He looks from the mirror to Taekwoon, and back to the mirror again, tilting his head in confusion. “Shit,” he exhales, “you’re… invisible? I don’t get it.”

“Hey,” says Taekwoon with a soft sigh of annoyance. He always hates doing this. “Just calm down, okay?”

“I’m calm,” Wonshik insists. He’s definitely not calm. “I am, I swear. You’re just… fucking  _ invisible _ ?!”

Taekwoon grabs Wonshik by the arm and pushes him up against the rack of vinyls to stop him from escaping. “This won’t hurt,” he promises. It’s almost scary, how sweetly he says it.

“Wait,” Wonshik breathes, barely struggling against Taekwoon’s hold. “What… what  _ are  _ you?”

It’s hot in the record store. The sun is streaming through the front windows, casting everything in a glittering, golden light. Taekwoon jams a knee between Wonshik’s legs and brings both hands up around his jaw instead. In the hazy afternoon sunlight, he’s like an angel sent to tear the record store worker apart.

Wonshik hardly dares to meet Taekwoon’s eyes. But when he does, he can’t look away. He’s locked into some kind of powerful spell — one that makes Taekwoon almost  _ glow _ with control. Taekwoon presses their foreheads together and slowly closes his eyes, which prompts Wonshik to do the same. He mumbles a few words under his breath and touches his fingers to Wonshik’s temples. 

“ _ You don’t remember me _ ,” Taekwoon whispers. “ _ You saw my reflection. I said I like Duran Duran, you said you like Guns N Roses. I asked how much the vinyls are… _ ”

He pauses, feeling a strange tug at his heart. It’s something he’s missed — the sensation of human touch, the way Wonshik’s skin warms the pads of his fingers. It’s something all vampires eventually come to crave.

“Fuck.” Taekwoon lets go and steps back, but he can’t stop staring when he opens his eyes. He hasn’t dated since the amateur poet in 2001 (excluding a trainwreck of a fling in more recent years). Wonshik isn’t even his type. 

Wonshik blinks, and the carefree smile is back. “They’re 18,000 won,” he says, like nothing happened. “Some of them go for up to twenty-five, though.”

Taekwoon shuts his mouth and nods. It’s only now that he’s realising he could have gone about the whole hypnosis thing in a much easier way. Usually, when people catch him going around without a reflection, all he has to do is touch them and mutter an alternative scenario. He didn’t have to do the whole  _ pushing Wonshik against a wall _ thing.

“If you wanna check the price on anything, you can just ask,” Wonshik tells him. He doesn’t seem to notice how much closer they are to each other than before.

“Uh… yeah, thanks,” Taekwoon finally manages to say. He can’t figure out why he was so compelled to close the distance between them before. His blood pumps faster through his veins and he can feel his fangs threatening to jump out at the worst possible time. 

“Hey… don’t you work across the street from us?” Wonshik asks, referring to the store as a whole. “I think I’ve seen you a few times.”

“Mm, I’m a bartender there,” Taekwoon answers. He wants to go home and get away from the whole encounter, but there’s something that keeps his feet rooted to the ground.

Wonshik slowly starts to smile. “Well, maybe I’ll have to come for a drink sometime.”

Taekwoon swallows. “Sure,” he says. “I actually, um... need to, uh, walk my dog, so…”

He’s pretty sure Wonshik says ‘ _ goodbye’ _ , or ‘ _ see you around’ _ , but he leaves too quickly to hear it. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  


Jaehwan is squealing like a four year old on Christmas Day when Taekwoon gets home. He’s greeted with a rib-crushing hug and a screech down his eardrum that’s almost loud enough to break it. 

“I’m Dracula!” he yells in delight. “I’m fucking  _ Dracula _ , Woonie!”

There’s probably nothing weirder for the neighbours to hear at 4pm in the afternoon. Taekwoon is just thankful it isn’t at the crack of dawn.

“I should hope not,” he quips, trying to detach Jaehwan’s limbs from his body. “I thought you only have eyes for your pretty little stage techie.”

“Ha, ha,” Jaehwan says sarcastically. “You’re hilarious.”

Taekwoon smirks and kicks off his shoes at the door. “I know.”

“But, if you think about it,” Jaehwan muses, “I don’t think fucking Dracula would be that bad. Like, okay — he’s about a billion years old by now. But he’s got, like, a ton of cool powers and stuff that could… I don’t know… spice things up a bit.”

“Ew.” Taekwoon grimaces at the overly suggestive tone in Jaehwan’s voice. (However, he hates it that the first thing that comes to mind in this situation is Wonshik.)

“Anyway, aren’t you proud of me?” Jaehwan demands. He somehow manages to be both aggressive  _ and  _ giddy with excitement at the same time. “I got the part, Woonie. The  _ beautiful _ director Kim Taeyeon called me herself just now and confirmed it.”

Hakyeon appears in the doorway to the kitchen and smiles. “She called over forty minutes ago,” he tells Taekwoon. Clearly, Jaehwan has been bouncing off the walls for some time.

Jaehwan giggles in excitement and throws himself onto the couch in a spectacular dive-bomb moment. Taekwoon just observes and dumps his bag on Hakyeon’s armchair, while Hakyeon tidies up his shoes and puts them neatly on the shoe rack.

“Well?” Jaehwan says expectantly after enough time has passed for his excitement to turn to disappointment.

“Well what?”

Jaehwan sits up properly and frowns. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

A hint of a smirk twitches in the corners of Taekwoon's lips but he does his best to sustain his rather blank expression. "I guess," he shrugs, knowing how much it will piss Jaehwan off to receive such a bland response. "Well done."

It's clearly not enough to satisfy Jaehwan's excitement, because he slides onto the floor in a show of despair, glaring up at Taekwoon in such a way that strains his eyes. Taekwoon doesn’t rise to respond to the childish act and instead steps over Jaehwan to head into the kitchen. 

“You should be happier for me, bitch!” Jaehwan calls after him.

Taekwoon just sighs and shakes his head, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and pouring himself a glass. He sits at the breakfast counter and waits for the other two to come slinking into the kitchen to join him. “I’m really happy for you, Baby Fangs,” he says once he can hear Jaehwan’s little footsteps patter along the tiled floor. “I’m thrilled that you’re getting your fangs out for a live audience every night.”

Jaehwan jumps on him from behind and gets an arm around Taekwoon’s neck, elbow at the jugular. Taekwoon chokes on his orange juice. 

“I was joking!” Taekwoon wheezes, struggling to get at Jaehwan with his free hand. Jaehwan reluctantly loosens his grip and lets go, rolling his eyes in annoyance because he’s too over the moon about the musical to be one hundred percent mad.

“Mostly,” Taekwoon adds under his breath.

He’s quick to escape the kitchen when Jaehwan pounces on him again. 


End file.
